Mad About You
Mad About You
by Annika
Title: Mad About You
Author: Annika
Email: annika_rj@yahoo.com
Category: Thoughts
Season: any Season
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Rating: G
Warnings: none
Summary: "I'm mad about you, I'm mad about you" - Sting
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
I love the way he looks at me, the way he dresses. I love the way he tugs at his shirt when he is nervous, the way he pushes his cap harder down, and the way he smirks and arranges his dark glasses. I love the fact that he wears them even when there's no sun, and that he lets them hang down from his neck in the strangest fashion, especially when he is bent over something. I love the way he sips his coffee in the morning, and the way he savors those silly fruit loops, and the fact that he never ever pours enough milk on them and they crunch when he bites them. I love how he smiles at me over the table and I smile back and Daniel doesn't understand, and I love that we know that we do. I love that he never reads my reports, and he makes little birds out of paper during the meetings and then gives them to me. I love the fact that he never finds anything in his backpack and when I find it and give it to him he looks at me like he never looks at anyone. And I love the fact that he makes me laugh all the time, even when I'm sad or depressed, and that when he pats me on the back I feel more than friendship, I feel trust, and love. I love the way he is with kids, the way he makes them open up, and tell him things. I love the way he looks at them, and talks to them, and I love to look at him be with them. I love to see him read something that he likes, the way he frowns sometimes at a word he finds funny, or the way he folds the newspapers. I love the fact that every time I give him a book to read he gives it back to me dog-eared and with marks on the spine, and that he asks me to talk about the book. I love that he keeps quoting Homer Simpson and he doesn't even know he does it, and that he never ever misses an episode. I love the fact that he never saw Star Wars, and I also love the fact that he wanted to see it with me. I love the way he is with Teal'c, and the way he tries to explain him things about us, about Earth. I love that he understands us better than he would admit, and that he is smarter than he thinks he is. I love the puzzled look on his face when I explain him about worm-holes and other astrophysical phenomena, and I love the glitter in his eyes when he understands what I am telling him. I love the way he makes me feel every time he opens my office or lab door and peeks in, I love the fact that he knows all of this, and I love that he thinks it's funny. I love the way he talks, the way he walks, the way he speaks. I love what I don't know about him, his secrets, and I even love the small things I hate about him. I think... I'm afraid... I guess... I love him too.
I love the way she walks. I love the way she teases me, the way we disagree. I love her green disgusting jello. I love the way she points at me with her fork when we eat, and I love her running out on me because she forgot to turn off something in the lab. I love her morning cup of coffee; I love the black rings around her eyes when she spends the night working. I love her lab, the faint smell of her perfume lingering in every single room she goes into, the way she throws her clothes on the floor when she goes to take a shower, and the fact that she always unties the laces to her shoes. I love her long and boring reports that I never read, and I love the fact hat she always uses dark blue folders to put them into, and that the paper has a tint of beige. I love to see her working on something interesting, the way her eyebrows come close together when she concentrates, and the way she slams objects I cannot identify to the table when something is wrong. I love her black t-shirt and the way it looks on her, and I love the fact that the dull and boring army pants fall perfectly on her body. I love the way she is kind and generous in so many million little ways, and I love that she is always ready to sacrifice herself for anyone, even for an enemy. I love the way she looks so interested when Daniel is explaining something very boring. And I love that she is keeping all the paper animals I give her after the meetings. I love her underlined books, and I love the comments she makes on every inch of empty space on the page. I love that she can watch Star Wars ten times over without being bored, and I love the way she teases me about liking the Simpsons. I love the stale coffee cup I always find in her office and the smell of security and warmth that surrounds her. I love her being mad, and I love her being happy. I love that she laughs at my stupid jokes, and I love that she gets them. I love the way she clutches at her gun when we are in danger, and I love the way she sometimes touches my hand without even realizing that she did. I love her soft voice, whispering that everything is going to be alright, I love her making silly jokes. I lover her optimism, I love her faith. I love her strength and I love her weaknesses. I love every single breath she takes, and I love the way she sometimes looks at me, as if she knew that I love her. That I love loving her.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Annika
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